


It Started Off As A Feeling, Which Then Grew Into A Hope

by friendlybomber



Series: Endearing Questions [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae, F/M, Gen, Hope, Pre-Relationship, Questions, also lets address that teagan lived in ansburg his whole life, also the grey wardens are really inspiring to me fuck off, hey lets actually address the fact that rowan guerrin existed and was the best dragon age character, why did you kill off rowan david gaider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlybomber/pseuds/friendlybomber
Summary: The sun will set soon. Bann Teagan and the Warden chat in Redcliffe before the night falls and the monsters come. Also, Teagan has an embarrassing crush on the Warden, tell everyone you know.





	It Started Off As A Feeling, Which Then Grew Into A Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Part of Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae's timeline. Check out my other fics for more of the extended story. Arguably a prequel to No loose ends

Sunset would come. That was certain. The Warden – that’s what she was, wasn’t she? – seemed anxious, glancing up at the sky every few seconds to gauge its color. She was a tiny thing, not what Teagan expected a Grey Warden to be at all, and, perhaps it was simply that she was Dalish and he was -self-admittedly – ignorant, but she made him apprehensive.

She was beautiful, though. He blinked and shook his head. He had already been chastised by his nephew that day for flirting with her. Apparently she was _off-limits_. Assuming they all survived the night.

She looked at him, furrowed brows over those big blue eyes. He had never seen eyes that color before – a deep, dark, wild blue, too vivid to be human and too dark to be safe. He eyed the longbow slung over her strong shoulders. He knew very little about the Dalish, but he knew to be cautious. They were, supposedly, a proud, independent people, and took poorly to noble _shemlen_ like him.

The Warden kept frowning at him. He shifted uncomfortably and smiled at her. “Is there something you need, my lady?”

“I have a stupid question,” she replied slowly, still studying him. He still wasn’t used to her voice – tintinnabulous and coated in a thick, mealy accent. Dalish, certainly, like the patch of muddy blue painted into her forehead.

“I will try to provide an answer,” he said. Dalish or no, she was a person – a person who wanted to help. He would be civil. Of course he would. That’s what he _did_. Nobility, and all that.

“What’s a bann?” she asked.

He blinked at her, then nodded. “You wouldn’t have encountered nobility before, would you?”

She shrugged defensively. “I asked Alistair, and he gave me a general explanation on this whole nobility system you lot have, but what does a bann _do_? And where is Rainesfere? Is it like Redcliffe? Are you like a mayor? I don’t get it.”

He didn’t laugh at her, but he wanted to. She was, dare he say, _cute_. Short, confident, and endearing. Her big blue eyes pouted out from under that strange tattoo, waiting for an answer.

“Rainesfere is to the north of Redcliffe,” he explained. “It lies in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains. For simplicity’s sake, it is much like Redcliffe and the area around it, but smaller. It is under Redcliffe’s jurisdiction – so my brother technically owns the land before I do. My day-to-day duties are… not that exciting. Think of it as similar to a mayor, yes, though more political, and less involved, if you can imagine it.”

“But you’ve got more power than a mayor?” she prodded. “So you can act on your opinions and contribute to a civil war effort?”

“Yes,” he said, almost embarrassed for a reason he could not pin down. “I must do my part to keep Loghain from the throne. We must _all_ do our parts. Which is why it is so important we survive the night and get into the castle.”

She nodded, considering this.

“Are you close with your brother?” the Warden asked.

“I…” He paused, unsure of how to answer. It was not typically the question asked of a minor bann. “Eamon is a good man, and a good politician. He alone has the power to stop all this.”

“So you respect your brother,” the Warden filled in. “But you dodged my question. He gave Alistair a poor childhood. He sent him away. Both you and he say Arl Eamon is a good man, but how can a good man do bad things like?”

Teagan tensed. There was much he could say about his brother that he would not. There was much he should consider about his brother that he could not. If he paused to think about it… Well, there was no time for hesitation. Not with Ferelden falling apart at the seams. Eamon was his brother, yes, but Eamon was also useful. They could argue about ethics when he was alive and well. And, judging by the Warden’s sharp mind and relentless questioning, they _would_.

“We must all make choices we would rather not make,” he decided. “Maker knows my brother has done his best. A good man is determined by the sum of his actions. Eamon is… a good man.”

She brightened in an instant, beaming like the sun. He was almost taken aback at how rapidly the change had come upon her.

“Alright,” she smiled. She had the most beautiful, innocent crooked smile. “If you have faith in him, and Alistair has faith in him, I’ll believe you so. I never had any brothers or sisters. Oh! Wasn’t your sister the queen? What was she like?”

He relaxed. Though it was a more complicated topic, this one he could answer honestly. “Rowan was a fine warrior, and a finer woman. She fought alongside King Maric to free Ferelden from Orlais. I didn’t know her well personally – not since I was very young– but I knew she was brave. She… died too soon.”

“I’m sorry,” the Warden murmured. She placed a hand on his arm. “I’ve lost people too. Family I didn’t know well enough. It’s hard. It’s strange. I understand.”

He smiled at her appreciatively. Who was she to come into his life and show him such unprompted kindness? For all her strange, endearing questions, she was an odd one. A… special one. They had only just met, and even he could see this.  

Perhaps he had been staring at her for too long, for she changed the subject again just as suddenly as before, her eyes gleaming. “Did _you_ fight to free Ferelden?”

“Me? No,” he laughed. “I was but a child during the war, and I was in Ansburg, in the Free Marches. I had nothing to do with the revolution. I did make my sister recount the whole war in her letters, though. I’m afraid that’s as close as I ever got to the battlefield.”

“What, really?” the Warden asked. She seemed to grow more agitated, leaning in earnestly and flexing her fingers. “You lived in the Free Marches? Where’s Ansburg? My clan is heading up north to the Free Marches right now. Do you think they’ll be safer there? Closest we ever got to the Free Marches was meeting another clan who tended to stay around there. Is it very different from Ferelden?”

Before he could make sense of her anxiety, Teagan’s response was cut short by Alistair calling the Warden’s name. Another strange, foreign thing about the Warden: the name Alistair used was _not_ the one she had introduced herself as. Apparently, she had two, and one was to be used only by the members of her party. A question for another time, perhaps, if they lived to see it. She dragged her foot through the dirt reluctantly.

“I should go get ready for the night,” she said. She jabbed her finger in his chest. “I want to hear more about Ansburg tomorrow, after we survive. We’re gonna make it, understand? We can do this so.”

“Let us pray so,” he responded. He curled his hand around her finger. “Go. I will see you tomorrow, Maker willing.”

She nodded, then turned and trotted off to join Alistair. Teagan watched them climb the hill towards the mill, a mix of regret and dread settling in the pit of his stomach. They were both so young, so full of spirit and compassion. Alistair, his nephew whom he had lost, and the Warden, this new, sterling, striking thing from the blue. They had come to fight. He was leading those two children to their deaths. He was leading the entire village to their deaths.

No. He looked towards the golden sky. Who knew what the night would bring? He clenched his fists and looked again to the hill where the Warden stood with her party – with Alistair, and with that witch, and with her big mabari hound. They weren’t much, but they seemed to bring something with them when they strolled into Redcliffe earlier in the day. A renewed vigor in the people. A sense of vitality. Hope.

That was what was so striking about the Warden. Even amidst all this despair and death and horror, she was nothing but a beacon of hope. She could turn a town on its last legs around with nothing but a reassuring smile and a promise that they would see the morning. That was a rare thing in times such as those.

The Warden was exactly what the world needed right then. Someone to grin and ask questions and tell you it would all be okay. Or perhaps that was simply what Teagan needed. Either way, he was starting to think that with her and her companions, they were going to win.

He looked to the faces of the militia, drunk and gripping their swords in preparation for the night, and shook his head incredulously. Perhaps they all would be enough after all. They would simply have to wait and see.

The evening was coming on quick. As he stole one last look up the hill and headed into the Chantry, he knew it would not be his last. Not while the world still had hope. Not while the Warden still waited on his answers.    


End file.
